The Lovers I've Known: Part 1 The Kiss
by NoCleverSig
Summary: John's jealousy prompts him to ask: "How many lovers have you had, Helen? How many have you loved?"  Stands alone or No.7 in the "No Destination in Mind" Series


**Disclaimer: **I don't own Sanctuary or any of the characters, I just play with them. My words; however, are my own.  
**Author's Note: **Stands alone or may be considered No. 7 in the **"No Destination in Mind"** series. John is rid of his demon and living/working with Helen at the Sanctuary. _NOTE: Part 1 is rated Teen and you can stop there. Part 2 will be Adult. But honestly? I think sometimes a well done kiss can be as sexy and sensuous as erotica. I hope you will agree. Comments and Reviews are greatly appreciated. Peace: NCS_  
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**The Lovers I've Known (Part 1)  
(Copyright 2010, NoCleverSig)**

"Two more items," Helen said as she wrapped up their regular Friday morning staff meeting. "Kate and John, I need you two to go to the Bucharest Sanctuary today and pick up the Xenofile they acquired and bring it back here for observation. Please bring it back by tonight so I can examine it over the weekend, all right?"

"Sure thing, boss," Kate said with a mock salute. "With John being able to teleport now, we are in and out fast as f...uh...really quick," Kate said, smiling at her partner.

John sat on the edge of the sofa and bowed to her. "Happy to be of service, Miss Freelander."

Kate squealed. "Ack! He's so cute when he does that!" She pointed to John but looked at Magnus.

Will rolled his eyes. Henry chuckled. Big Guy just stood there. He hadn't decided one way or the other what he thought of John Druitt.

Helen couldn't help but grin. John put on his very best Victorian manners for Kate precisely because she thought they were "cute." Kate thought a lot of things about John were "cute," including his relationship with Helen.

The two of them had come out publicly as a couple a month ago. Although Helen had fretted about it, it surprised absolutely no one. Nevertheless, that didn't mean Magnus was comfortable with overt affection between them in front of her team. And while John might want to reach for her or put his hand on the small of her back on occasion for comfort during strenuous times—and there were always strenuous times at the Sanctuary—he refrained. Helen didn't like mixing work with pleasure, so he abided as best he could by her wishes. He didn't always succeed, occasionally earning a glare or two from her. But usually a well placed smile charmed it away.

"Finally," Helen started, hoping no one would notice the nervousness in her voice, particularly John, "Dr. Anderson called. He picked up a capybara in Central America last week that was exhibiting abnormal like behaviors. He'd like one of us to go down to Stanford this weekend to pick it up. So, I'll make that assignment as soon as I take a look at everyone's schedules. That's it. Have a good day everyone," she said, dismissing them.

She didn't have to look up to feel John's eyes resting on her the moment she mentioned Anderson's name.

Dr. David Anderson was a Stanford biologist and long-time friend of Helen Magnus. He'd also been her part-time lover for years. John knew it, had practically witnessed it, and it had almost spelled the end of their relationship before it had even begun.

They dispersed, except for John who hung back. Henry and Will exchanged a look, Will deciding it best to come back later to go over his case files with Magnus.

John was hovering. She could feel it. He wasn't going to budge until she acknowledged him. Stubborn man. She looked up, "Yes, John?"

He stood in front of her desk, hands folded. He had on his typical field gear: leather pants, black shirt, black duster. He looked sexy, irritated, and a tad dangerous.

"You're not thinking of going to Stanford this weekend to pick up Dr. Anderson's abnormal, are you?" he asked, his voice flat, his face expressionless, but his eyes deadly dark.

She looked back down at the paperwork in front of her, finding it suddenly absorbing. "I haven't decided who's going yet."

He walked up to her, placed his hands on the opposite edges of the desk, leaned over, practically penning her in, his face inches from hers. "Well, just so you know," he whispered. "I'd prefer it not be you, Helen." His meaning was quite clear.

John had many admirable traits, Helen thought. Jealousy was not one of them.

"John, first off, I don't appreciate the directive or the threat," she said, meeting him eye to eye and glancing at the placement of his hands on either side of her. "Secondly, this is neither the time nor the place to discuss this."

He moved back, taking his threatening posture with him.

"Very well," he said, trying his best to maintain his composure. "But I do want to discuss 'this'... later."

"After dinner. In private," she emphasized.

He nodded and left.

She actually had no intention of going to Stanford. She had planned on sending Henry. But the fact that John had practically forbidden her struck a nerve. He either trusted her or he didn't. And this was not 1887 where he could tell her what to do. (Even then he couldn't, but that didn't stop him from trying on occassion.) She ran the Sanctuary. He worked for her. And she could do as she bloody well pleased. If she wanted to see David Anderson, she would see David Anderson. And by God, she just might.

* * *

She avoided him as long as possible, skipping dinner, which they usually ate together, and walling herself up in her lab, doing some preliminary tests on the abnormal they'd brought back from Bucharest.

She glanced at the time on her monitor. It was 10 p.m. She couldn't put it off any longer. She'd promised she'd speak to him. She just prayed it wouldn't turn into an argument. She wasn't in the mood.

She'd forgotten, glossed over more like, this part of his personality, having been so traumatized by his transformation into Jack at the time and so elated when he had returned to her as John.

When they were young and first together at Oxford, John had always been an intelligent, kind, thoughtful lover. But he'd also been a jealous one. She'd forgotten just how jealous until now. Once he had caught Nikola innocently kissing her on the cheek under a tree on the south lawn and had pulled Tesla up by his lapels so hard that his feet hovered over the ground and shook him until his teeth rattled. She had to physically smack John to make him stop. He and Nikola never got along well after that. But truth be told, knowing Nikola, the kiss on the cheek wasn't likely so innocent. Still….

She made her way, slowly, back to her quarters. When she arrived, John was already in bed, shirtless, black silk pajamas bottoms on, reading a book. Henry James, it appeared.

"You're late," he said politely, not looking up. "I missed you at dinner."

"I'm sorry," Helen replied, not looking up as well. "I was in the lab. I lost track of time."

"Your manservant brought you a sandwich in case you're hungry. It's on the table," he nodded, pointing toward the dresser.

She eyed it. "That was kind of him, but I'm fine. I had some crackers. I think I'll go wash up," she said, heading toward the bathroom.

"All right, but we are going to talk when you are done, correct, Helen?" John said, not looking up from his book.

Helen sighed. He hadn't forgotten. Bloody Hell. "Yes, of course. Let me just clean up first."

"As you wish, love," John said, still reading or at least pretending to.

Helen washed, readied for bed, and instead of pulling the covers off and scooting in next to John, sat on the edge of the bed, her dark hair trailing over her white, almost translucent, gown.

"You wanted to talk?" she asked.

He set the book down and looked at her. "I don't want you going to Stanford this weekend. I don't want you seeing David Anderson," he practically spit the name out. "I know you think me a jealous fool, Helen, and perhaps I am, but I don't want you to go." He hesitated. "It's important to me."

He stopped, having said his piece.

Part of her wanted to rail against his demands. Part of her was flattered that he cared enough to be jealous. It was outrageous, really, and childish. So she opted for simple honesty.

"John, I had no intention of going to Stanford. I was going to send Henry. I knew it would bother you, so I had already decided," she admitted.

"Oh," he said, the wind suddenly knocked out of him. "Then why didn't you tell me before?"

"Why do you think?" she asked, cocking her head.

He laughed. "Because I told you not to go," he smiled.

She smiled back. "Of course."

He sighed. "I'm sorry, Helen. You may have cured me of my demon, but I am far from a perfect man."

She nodded. "We all have our demons, John," she replied.

They were quiet a moment.

"Helen," he asked softly. "How many have there been?"

She looked up at him, confused. "How many what?"

He hesitated. "Lovers…Since you and I. How many?"

She froze.

"John," she said, not knowing what to say. This was a slippery slope. "This isn't something we need to discuss."

"Isn't it?" he asked, leaning toward her. "You've told me everything about your life, but nothing about…this," he hesitated, gesturing with his hands. "I'm not a fool, Helen. I know a woman like you hasn't been alone for over a century. I just would like to know…was it 10? 20? More?"

Helen shook her head. "John, nothing good can come of this conversation."

"Why?" he asked her. "You asked me, and I told you. I slept with many women. Unfortunately, many of them never woke up again, but…"

She put her hand up.

"Stop. I don't want to hear it."

"What I'm trying to say, my dear, is that, quite honestly, I had no one. No one before you and no one after, except for transient loves that meant nothing, appeased nothing. But I suspect you're life might have been…different. At least, I hope so. And I'm curious." he admitted. "I'd like to know….Have you loved someone else?"

It was a fair question. What lover wasn't curious about his or her lover's past? Yet it made her stomach hurt to think of talking to him about it. It was complicated. Their relationship was complicated, always had been, which made any relationship she had subsequently complicated as well.

She looked up at him. "This is a mistake, John. You say you want to know, but I'm not sure you really understand what you're asking of me."

His eyes grew dark. His smile dimmed.

"Have there been that many, Helen?" he asked, his voice low.

"John, please…," she pleaded with him, hoping he'd drop it.

"What about young Will? He's quite the intelligent, handsome, articulate lad. Is there another reason you selected him for your protégé?"

She looked up at him, stunned, "Dr. Zimmerman?"

"Oh yes, I hear you refer to him as that quite often," he said, mockingly.

"Now you're scaring me, John," she said, not liking where this conversation was heading.

"You always had an eye for younger men, Helen."

"John, I'm 160 as are you, they are all younger!" She almost laughed. "And to answer your ridiculous question, no. Absolutely not! There is no relationship between Will and me aside from work and friendship."

He nodded, backing down, her anger radiating in waves against him. "My apologies."

"And if you take one more step down this path, you won't be sleeping in my bed tonight," she said loudly.

"I thought this was our bed?" he looked at her, his voice quiet.

"Regardless, one of us will be elsewhere."

They were both silent for a few moments. John curious about her reticence to discuss her past loves. Helen weighing whether it was better to be honest and tell the truth or leave him wondering, assuming the worst.

She sighed. "Fine, you want to know, I'll tell you. But what I'm telling you is in the past, not the present. I only want to be with you John. You understand that, don't you?"

"I do," he nodded. "And I with you, Helen," he replied.

She nodded in return and took a deep breath. "All right."

She gathered her thoughts and took another breath. If she was going to do this, she might as well start at the beginning.

"It took me awhile, several years actually, after you…after we ended…to let myself trust again. To be close to anyone again."

He looked at her, listening.

"I shut myself off, surrounded myself with my work, the Sanctuary in London, and saw no one romantically. James teased me about it relentlessly, telling me a tryst would do me good."

John looked down at his hands and smiled. "I can hear the old boy saying that."

"Yes," she smiled back. "But it wasn't until 189…something, I don't remember the exact year. James and I went to India to help with an abnormal there and while we were there... I met Raghavendra," she paused. "He was the tutor of the Maharasha of Mysore at the time. A well educated young man. A musician, a poet…"

"He was Indian?" John asked.

"Yes," she answered him, wondering if that made a difference to him. If it did, he didn't say so.

"What attracted you to him?" he asked plainly, no hint of jealousy in his voice.

"He was intelligent, artistic, well read. But most of all…Rah was kind. Exceptionally kind. And I was at a point in my life where I very much needed kindness," she said quietly.

John looked down at his hands. She looked at him, knowing how he would take her answer. Knowing that he would be right.

"Did you love him?" he asked, not looking at her.

She answered honestly. "A part of me did, yes."

He simply nodded, waiting a beat.

"And others… I assume he was the first of many others?" he asked.

Helen nodded, "He was, John." She chose to leave it at that and not go into any further details about the men, and women, she had been with, loved in her life since him.

John sat silent for a time.

"What of Ashley? Was there anyone special in your life when Ashley was young? Someone to help raise her?"

She smiled to herself. John couldn't help his upbringing. The idea of a single mother with a daughter out of wedlock was one he no doubt still found disturbing.

"I raised her on my own, John. But James, Henry, others were here to help me. As far as a man in my life, a father figure, if you will, when Ashley was very young, I was involved with someone who quite liked children. He was very good with them, had two of his own by a previous marriage. He and Ashley got on well. We were together for a number of years during her youth, and I think, I know, he was a positive presence for her."

She looked at John, waiting for him to react.

He swallowed. "I'm glad she had someone that wasn't me," he said quietly.

Magnus sighed and tilted her head, looking at him. "Oh, John…I would have given anything for it to have been you."

He looked up at her, the pain visible in his eyes.

"This is hard, Helen. Harder than I had imagined," he said, his voice quiet, his body still. "Part of me is glad to know you found some…affection in your life." He couldn't bring himself to say _love_. "Part of me, the admittedly jealous part, wishes it had been me and me alone who could have brought you joy."

She reached her hands out to his and held them, stroking his long fingers with her thumbs. "I told you once that I loved you with my entire being. I still do, John. I've loved others, it's true, but not like this," she said, trying to reassure him.

She let go of one hand and reached up behind his neck pulling him toward her, resting her forehead against his, her eyes closed, listening to his breathing, his heartbeat, the sound of the clock ticking in their room.

After a moment, he reached out and took hold of her arms, lightly rubbing them up and down, back and forth through the white, silky fabric, his mind lost in thought. She wished she knew what he was thinking, feeling, but she was hesitant, afraid to ask him. He suddenly stopped his stroking, pulled back from her, obviously having reached some conclusion. He looked at her with such anguish, she thought she might cry.

He lifted his hand to wipe away the hair that had fallen in front of her eyes, then slipped it behind her neck, gently pulling her toward him and kissed her. Softly...slowly...sensuously...

Helen felt her whole body melt into his, her whole being lost in the pure sensation of this one, single kiss.

If John was trying to prove a point, and she suspected he was, he had succeeded. With a single kiss he had completely undone her. Simultaneously staking his claim and communicating all the love, longing, and desire he held for her.

He didn't have to speak a word to tell her what he was saying...

She didn't have to speak a word to give him her reply...

END


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